


it burns in my tongue

by cookiedoug



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy and Tommy speak Spanish, Harringrove, Keg Boys, Kegboys, M/M, Multi, Pre-Slash, basically blowjob insinuations, billy and tommy coudn't take the hint even if their lives depended on it, featuring ice cream, or in this case, poor steve has to do all the heavy lifting, stommy, the heavy licking, tomgrove - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:48:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24099109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookiedoug/pseuds/cookiedoug
Summary: "Dirty" Steve repeats, lips pursing, and takes all of his force of will not to stare at how red they look, how much they stand out of his skin, out of the electric-blue of that fucking uniform "BillythinksI'mdirty" he crosses his legs at the ankles. His socks are pulled up. Tommy has never wanted to kiss this bad someone that wears his goddamn socks pulled up.Steve thinks he looks ridiculous in that uniform. He doesn't know shit.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Tommy Hagan/Billy Hargrove, Tommy Hagan/Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Tommy Hagan/Steve Harrington
Comments: 2
Kudos: 107





	it burns in my tongue

**Author's Note:**

> Translations at the end notes :D

"Do you _have_ to eat your ice cream _like that_?"

Steve looks up at Billy with a frown, licks at his thumb, his middle finger. Takes another mouthful.

"Lai-wah?"

They're sitting on the sidewalk in the back of the Starcourt, entrenched in a patch of shade, Tommy in between the two of them, the soles of their snickers slowly cooking over the boiling pavement. It’s the third day in a row that Hawkins has reached the thirty-five degrees mark, and Tommy can tell Billy is growing restless, wearing his skin thin, like he's burning from the inside out with the heat of the season.

"Less like you're blowing it, more like you’re eating it" his voice sounds hoarse, dangling on some kind of edge.

It sounds _hungry_.

Steve keeps on looking at him like he doesn't understand, eyes round and big. Manages to catch some syrup right before it slides down the edge of the cone, but gets a bit of cream on his nose. Wipes it with his palm.

He looks devious and adorable and Tommy wants to lick him whole. He hopes it doesn't show when he says,

"I think he means a little less–uhm— _dirty?"_

Because when it comes to Steve and Billy, shockingly enough, _Tommy_ is the one _mediating_.

And no, the heat is not helping.

"Dirty" Steve repeats, lips pursing, and takes all of his force of will not to stare at how red they look, how much they stand out of his skin, out of the electric-blue of that fucking uniform " _Billy_ thinks _I'm_ dirty" he crosses his legs at the ankles. His socks are pulled up. Tommy has never wanted to kiss this bad someone that wears his goddamn socks pulled up.

Steve thinks he looks ridiculous in that uniform. He doesn't know shit.

"For the lack of a better word" Billy smirks, canines bare. Looks at Tommy like he's thinking it too, that there isn't really a lack of words, there are _plenty_.

(Like filthy. Like obscene. Like hot as fuckin' fuck. Like _I want you to do to me what you're doing to that fucking ice cream_ )

Steve rolls his eyes. The ice cream keeps on melting, dripping all over his knuckles. He sticks out his tongue and licks them clean, a long stripe all the way up to the tip, his mouth full of syrup and whipped cream and cookie bits and when Billy breathes out a ragged _holy shit,_ he looks fucking _pleased_.

"Well, _maybe_ Billy," he says, looking intently _at Billy_ "shouldn't get all that squeamish. Considering the amount of disgusting shit he makes me witness on a regular basis"

It's not like he's not right. Usual circumstances, Billy is _gross,_ he's _nasty_ , but right now, and for some whimsical reason he's eating his ice cream with careful, deliberate precision, making it turn against his tongue, not missing a drop. And Tommy doesn't want to wonder how would it be to have all that meticulous intent aimed onto a different place but he _does. He does._ Even if it's not as if something _like that_ could ever happen. Because Tommy knows about Billy and Billy knows about Tommy, but that only means they can torture each other about how much they lust and long and pine for Steve. That's all.

(They've only kissed once. Only to know what it feels like. Two days after getting so drunk together, so thoroughly high, that Billy ended up confessing the inconfessable "I would kiss him all day, Tommy, I swear. I would sit on his lap and do nothing fucking else. Just kiss him," two days after Tommy's ribcage pressed inwards, clutching at his heart "Sorry, Hargrove. But I saw him first", two days after Billy laughed at his face "Like that's gonna make any difference." They kissed because there's no one else, because when Billy asked, he did it straight into his ear, voice dripping down the hem of his shirt, sliding his sternum, and _lower_ "If you want, I'll let you pretend I'm him". A single kiss that lasted for fifteen minutes straight and ended the moment Tommy began to feel his cock filling up in his jeans –the moment he began to realize that knowing that Billy Hargrove kisses as if he wants to drag you out of your own skin, that his mouth tastes sweet and warm, spicy with the aftertaste of nicotine, that it feels nothing like he imagines Steve’s would– is a little more risky than he had anticipated)

"I'd do that, but you're getting all filthy, King Steve" and the tone of his voice could pass for mean it wasn't because Tommy knows he always sounds meaner when he's horny (they've touched each other only once. No kisses. No closeness. Just hands. Cramped in the minuscule rectangle of Tommy's bed, because "What it is Tomas? Are you too scared try?" "I'm not scared" "Then pull your pants down" And Tommy shouldn't know he can't stop talking ––dirty, violent, like a fucking heart attack–– _while_ he's coming but _he knows, God_ _he_ _knows_. "And we don't want those poor costumers getting the wrong impression about what was their lovely Scoops Sailor doing to stain that uniform, do we?"

Tommy sighs inwards. Takes a bite of his almost finished freeze pop. If it wasn't because the idea of his two best friends having a crush on him wouldn't occur to Steve in a million years they'd be totally screwed. It's not like they've been exactly subtle. _Especially_ Billy.

"Mmhh. Guess who's not getting free ice cream next time?" says Steve, tone as bratty as it gets. Daring.

Billy bares his teeth.

"You're forgetting I have Robin, pretty boy"

"Oh. But _you_ are forgetting _whose side_ Robin is"

He’s smiling that angelic smile he always puts on whenever he is about to screw you. Opens up his mouth and sucks on the ice cream, lips pressed around the tip, lets out a groan of _pure_ _pleasure_ and swallows "It’s still too dirty for you like this, Hargrove?" he asks pointedly and Tommy shouldn't, really shouldn't be staring at him but––

(Tommy and Steve have never touched, never kissed, but Tommy knows that he snores softly when he falls asleep with his head buried in your neck and that you can tell how he feels by the way he’s saying your name. He knows how big he feels, how hot, when he gets hard against your thigh, even if it was just once and by pure accident, the two of them rubbing against each other while fighting for the remote, Steve red up to the roots of his hair, repeating _"Sorry oh my god Tommy I'm so sorry"_ and Tommy feeling so thankful for the rough fabric of his jeans being tight enough to hide his own erection)

And there are a million other things that Tommy would like to know, a million times, but he can't.

He can’t)

"-mmy?"

"Uhm?"

"Can you help me clean this up?"

Steve manages to catch the drop of ice cream that's sliding down his neck, licks at the corner of his mouth, but he still has syrup just below his lower lip, on his cheek, and it's not the first time Tommy wets his thumb and wipes whatever he's gotten onto his face, there's been hundred before, but _this time_ Steve looks at him with eyes blown into an impossible dark and Tommy is achingly aware that Billy is watching them too. His heart beats in his throat while he wipes Steve clean, ––his skin soft, sun-warmed–– while bringing his pad into his mouth to clean it up, tasting strawberry and vanilla. And it would also taste like caramel and cinnamon and that spicy aftertaste of the nicotine, if he turned right now and Billy let Tommy kiss him a second time.

(And Tommy will never know, but sometimes he wonders how the three of them would taste like together. Because sometimes Billy comes up from behind and _leans_ all his weight against Steve's back, _embraces_ him, when he's studying or eating at the cafeteria or sitting at the edge of the pool. Sometimes he sits beside him in the back of the car or at the movies, puts an arm around him and Steve _lets him_ , always _lets him._ Allows Billy to insert himself point-blank into his personal space and Tommy should feel jealous, should feel weird, but what he feels is the blood rushing to the center of his body, pooling in there like an itch he shouldn't dare to even think about scratching)

Tommy hears the click of a lighter, catches the smell of the smoke. When Billy speaks, his voice doesn't reach Tommy's brain, it goes straight down to his cock.

"Cuidado, Tommy. Si lo sigues mirando así se va a dar cuenta de que es a él al que quieres comerte"

When Tommy turns to look at him, he merely raises an eyebrow, and it looks like he's trying not to grin but his teeth widen around the filter like he can’t stop them.

Because Tommy knows about Billy and Billy knows about Tommy, but this is all they do. Picking at each other. Playing games too close to the fire. And Tommy's skin feels burnt, aching, like this thing inside him is about to peel it up, crawl outside of him.

"Vete a la mierda" he says, makes it a warning, but Billy blows the smoke to his face, blows a kiss after. Tommy pushes him "Gilipollas"

"Oh but of course" starts Steve as he gets up, brushing off any dust that might have got stuck to his pants, throwing the rests of his ice cream in the trash "You two are such a good example of fucking good manners, aren’t you?" He smacks Tommy on the head, steals Billy’s cigarette and takes a long, deep drag “ _Maybe_ instead of sitting here doing nothing for the rest of the fucking afternoon you two would grow a pair and talk about making a move about _that thing_ you keep bickering about _so secretly_ all around me” he says in one sitting, looking them alternatively in the eye, and Tommy only realizes that his mouth is hanging open when Steve leans in and places the cigarette between his lips “I'm starting to get a bit tired of waiting."

“But you don't spe–” Tommy starts, but Steve cuts him off before he can finish.

“Oh. No I don’t. But Robin _does_. I guess it's a good thing that you two were dumb enough not to take it into account" cocky, a little wicked “I'm out at eight”

The door closes behind him. Billy reaches out to retrieve his cigarette. Inhales so deep that in his lungs mustn’t be any room left for the oxygen.

"Fuck"

They hold each other's gaze.

 _Fuck_.

He’s feeling the heat in a lot more places now than only those reached by the burning sun.

_At eight._

**Author's Note:**

> *
> 
> Translations:
> 
> “Be careful, Tommy. If you keep looking at him like that he’s gonna realize its him what you wanna be eating”
> 
> “Go fuck yourself”
> 
> “Asshole”
> 
> *
> 
> I'm not completely sure who I owe the "Hernández" to but THANK YOU so much. I love to think of this two boys having Latin roots <3
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr](https://withoneheadlight.tumblr.com/)! <3


End file.
